What I'd Do To You
by BrioScotty
Summary: Achele. The closest to PWP I'll probably ever write. See part 1 for some notes.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** What I'd Do To You

**PAIRING:** Lea/Dianna

**RATING:** NC-17/R (seriously, heed the rating)

**SUMMARY:** Just a little fireplace sex.

**NOTES:** I think this was my first attempt at 2nd person narrative. It's a series (totalling 6 parts) and the POV's switch with each part. I've purposely tried to avoid the usual identifiers (the blonde, the brunette, the diva etc.). If you can't figure out whose POV I'm using, try reading it from both. Double your pleasure. Or something.

You trudge up the last of the steps to your apartment, fishing the keys out of your pocket to unlock the door, pausing for a brief moment to shake some of the melting snowflakes from your sleeves of your coat. The snow's been falling since you'd left early that morning and, while you love watching it from inside, preferably curled up in front of the fireplace with a good book, being outside in it for extended periods of time is definitely not your favourite thing about New York. Unless someone is with you, dragging you into the wonder of the city in the run up to Christmas.

You sigh contentedly when you push the door open and the smell of burning wood rushes over you along with something divine coming from the kitchen. You can hear her singing along with the Christmas carols that are playing softly from the stereo.

"Hey," you call, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck and pulling off your waterlogged boots. If she hears you, she doesn't respond. You greet some of your menagerie of pets with pats and scratches before making a beeline for the rug in front of the fireplace. The rug is one of your finds from your occasional forays into antique stores. You sink down on your knees, run your hands through the pile and then lie down on your back, savouring the warmth of the fire and the softness beneath you. Immediately, the cold feeling that's been present all day starts to dissipate.

The noise in the kitchen lessens and footsteps approach the lounge. She's barefoot.

"Babe, I bought slippers for your birthday for a reason," you say, not moving from your position, unable to open your eyes as you feel yourself start to drift off. The footsteps draw closer and then quieten as she pads across the rug towards you. You're aware of her kneeling over you and feel her lips brush against yours.

"Hi," she murmurs, voice low and husky.

"Hey," you reply, bringing your arms up around her neck. "Dinner smells great. Is it okay if I just lie here until it's ready? I'm exhausted."

"Mmm," her response comes in the form of a kiss. You smile against her lips and go to run your hands up into her hair, surprised when you have nothing to curl your fingers around. You open your eyes and stare up at her in amazement before lowering your eyes to what she's wearing. Or not wearing. She smiles down at you, "Don't worry, it isn't permanent. The hair. I was experimenting before I started cooking dinner."

"I like it short," you hear yourself say, dragging your eyes back up to her face, "I like it a lot."

"And the shirt?" she asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

"I'd be happy if the shirt went," you say, chuckling softly. She ducks her head and kisses you again, her teeth grazing over your bottom lip. The tiredness you've been feeling since around the middle of the day is replaced by another sensation, one that's not entirely unwelcome.

She lowers her body on top of yours, never breaking the kiss and you feel her hips grind against yours. Your eyes snap open when you feel something else, something that contrasts starkly with the softness of her body, press against you and run your hands down her back, cupping her ass before sliding your hands up to toy with the straps resting below her hips. Your fingers skim over her skin as they travel to the front of her body and circle around the base of what's hiding beneath the oversized shirt she's wearing.

Your eyes connect with hers, darkening with lust, and your already-trembling fingers unbutton the shirt so you can see more of her. She starts to move up your body until her knees sink into the rug, level with your hips. Her fingers make quick work of the dress you'd thrown on in the semi-darkness of your bedroom early in the morning and she pulls it up over your head.

"I've been thinking about you all day," her voice sends tremors through your body and she leans down to press a kiss just behind your ear, letting her tongue drift over a sensitive patch of skin. You feel yourself shudder at the contact and she pulls away with a smile, reaching behind you to unsnap your bra. "I thought about you when you left me alone in bed this morning," she moves her attention to your neck, licking and sucking until she elicits your first whimper. "I thought about you when I took a shower…" Your collarbone is next, teeth grazing at the skin. "While I was curled up on the couch this afternoon," a stream of air exhales rapidly from her mouth and causes the skin around your nipples to prickle. "When I was making your dinner…"

"Fuck," you murmur, feeling her grind against you again as her mouth envelopes one nipple while an assured hand kneads at your other breast, "I'm sorry."

"Hmm."

She doesn't break contact and the sensation of her humming sends another tremor through your body causing heat to pool at the apex of your legs.

"I'm sorry you were alone," you whisper, "For all of your… thinking."

She continues unabated, fingers tugging your nipple now and her tongue painting wide strokes across the other. All the while, she's pressing herself against you, rubbing against your thigh.

"Tell me what you thought about," your voice already sounds ragged and you almost beg her to rip the rest of your clothes off, but you want to hear her voice, hear her say the words out loud. Her ability to be verbose and articulate while doing exquisitely indecent things to your body astounds you sometimes. She lifts her head and you mourn the loss of contact from her swollen lips.

"You," she says simply and you blush. "You and me. Your face as I bury my fingers deep inside you. The way you draw patterns on my skin with your tongue, your nails scratching my back. The sound of my name on your lips as I make you come…" she pauses, smiling lasciviously. "And the sound of your scream when I make you come again."

You feel your skin prickle with heat as she pushes against you.

"I thought about your face when you arrived home to find me half-naked," she says, hands moving to push down the clothes hugging your lower body. "I thought about you lying here in front of the fire."

Your eyes close as she tugs your remaining clothes off and you sigh contentedly as she begins to kiss her way upwards from your calf to the inside of your thigh.

"I thought about taking off every inch of your clothing and kissing your skin until you no longer felt cold and I thought about the way your skin reacts when my tongue runs up the length of your body."

Her mouth continues its journey northward until she's kissing your neck again. You moan as the hardness of the strap-on presses against your entrance.

"I thought about how it would feel to have you under me as I slide inside you."

You gasp, canting your hips upwards as she fills you up at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Please," you hear yourself whisper, eyes half-opening to look at her. "Please."

She shakes her head.

"I thought about you begging me for more," she murmurs, licking her lips before she slowly slides out of you again. You whimper against your will as she begins the process again, still moving at a glacial speed. "How does that feel, baby?"

"It's agony," you tell her in a breathless voice, "Delicious agony."

She leans in close, lips ghosting along your jaw line.

"Right now, I'm thinking about putting you out of your misery," she says, chuckling when you begin to nod furiously, "But then, I also think you can stand it once more…"

"I can't," you whimper, shaking your head rapidly, "Please…"

You're about to moan her name when she thrusts deep inside you.

"Yes," you hiss, eyes rolling back, hips jerking upwards to meet hers. She stills, hoisting your right leg around her waist; her hand slides up the back of your thigh until it cups your ass. Your hand clamps to the back of her neck and draws her lips closer to yours until they meet in a frenzied kiss. She moans into your mouth as you suck on her bottom lip; your other hand resting on her hip briefly before it slides down further. She grins against your mouth as you raise your hips and try to pull her deeper inside you.

"Fuck me," your voice is a trembling whisper and she complies, relief flooding your entire body as she slides in and out of your slick wetness. Her pace is rhythmically faultless; her mouth latches onto your neck and sucks as she pumps and you writhe beneath her. Your hips are matching her rhythm to make sure that you take as much of her as you can as she buries herself inside you over and over again; your muscles have already started to clench.

"I thought about you on top of me," her voice is a soft growl that causes your eyes to snap open. She begins to slow, searching for assent in your face. You nod and she hugs you close as she rolls onto her back. There's a momentary loss of contact as you move to kneel above her. Her hands steady you as you raise yourself up and guide her back inside, wavering slightly as new tremors of desire wash over you.

Her hips begin canting upwards slowly, finding her rhythm again; her hands are tight on your hips as she starts to lose herself. You rock back and forth, meeting her as she thrusts upwards and your body slides down around the shaft of silicone. You lean forwards, planting your hands on the rug, level with her shoulders and part your lips.

"Harder," you tell her and she nods, hips rolling up from the ground with more force. You groan and grind back against her, losing your pace for a second. The friction sends another shockwave through your body that forces you upright once again, head falling backwards. Her thrusts continue getting harder and faster with every stroke and you're not even trying to keep up anymore.

The coiled feeling inside you is ready to explode and you try to quell it, desperate for this to continue. Her nails digging into your hipbone bring your attention back down to her; she's staring at you with something akin to awe and you feel yourself blush under the intensity of her gaze.

"Mine," she whispers, as though she's just realising for the first time that this is real. You nod, mouth falling open as she presses her fingers to your clit. Your moans turn to pleas for her to make you come and she obliges, fingers quickening over your throbbing clit and her hips rolling up against yours all the while.

Her name is the only thing on your lips as you tumble over the edge, leaning back against her bended legs as wave after wave courses through your body.

"So good," you purr, eyes half-closed and you feel her chuckle beneath you as she slowly raises you up and pulls you down against her body. Your lips meet hers in a languid kiss and when you pull away she grins. "What?"

"I'm still hard," she winks and you laugh.

"Funny that," you muse, feeling her squirm underneath you, "Maybe you can tell me more about your day after dinner? Some of these thoughts you've been having are enthralling."

"You did look rather… enthralled," she concedes with a nod and a short laugh, "How was your day?"

You think back to your morning meeting with the cast of your movie, to the brief read-through of the opening scene of the script that you helped to write and you'll be directing. The feeling of intense pride that something you helped to create is actually going to come to life is almost intoxicating and you grin.

"Today, it got real."


	2. Chapter 2

**RATING:** NC-17

**PAIRING:** Lea/Dianna

**SUMMARY:** Just a little after-dinner fireplace sex.

**NOTES: **See part 1 for notes on POV's.

She clears the table while you prepare dessert, strawberries and a bowl of melted chocolate. She's humming along with the Christmas carols still drifting through from the stereo and you find yourself pausing in your actions just to watch her, to take her in. For dinner, she'd thrown on a jumper and a pair of your shorts. You curse yourself inwardly for owning such a short pair of shorts.

"What?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at you.

"Nothing," you say, reddening slightly and turning back to the strawberries.

"Hmm," she hums, abandoning the dishes to walk up behind you, arms circling your waist. "It didn't look like nothing," she whispers, lips pressing against your skin, just below your ear. You feel your eyes slide shut and take a quick breath, trying to ignore how amazing it feels to have her pressed against you.

"Just thinking," you hear yourself whisper as her hands start to unbutton the shirt you'd been wearing when she'd arrived home.

"About?" she asks, fingertips tracing patterns across your abdomen. You feel a coiling sensation deep inside you and bite back a moan.

"I'm wondering how you managed to find my shortest pair of shorts," you say and she chuckles, twisting you around in her arms to look at you. Her teeth run over her bottom lip and you stare unabashedly as you imagine what you want those lips to do to you. "I thought I'd hidden them away since it's not exactly summer outside."

"Are you seriously going to complain?" she asks, fixing you with a look and you shake your head at once, eyes sweeping up and down her body, lingering slightly longer on her legs. "Good." She reaches behind you to grab the bowl of strawberries and gives you a wink as she carries them out of the kitchen. You finish melting the chocolate and hurry after her to find her stretched out on the rug in front of the fireplace, jumper discarded a few feet away.

"Feeling the heat?" you ask, ripping your gaze away from her exposed chest and dropping down next to her. You place the bowl of chocolate on the hearth.

"Maybe a little," she says, grinning as she dips her hand into the bowl of strawberries and plucks one from the top. "Here," she swirls the strawberry in the chocolate and holds it to your lips. Your tongue darts out to lick off a drop of chocolate before it falls to the rug and then you capture the fruit between your lips and take a bite, the slightly sour taste permeating your mouth before you start to chew.

"Mmm," you moan and she smiles, "Very tasty."

"You should take off that shirt," she nods at the offending garment. "I don't want you to get chocolate on it." You open the final two buttons and shrug the shirt off, tossing it in the direction of her jumper.

"I don't want chocolate on my shorts either," you retort and she grins, running her teeth over her bottom lip before lying back on the rug and raising her hips. You watch the muscles in her calves and her thighs flex as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of the shorts and tugs them down to her knees. You feel a short gasp of air leave your lips as she lowers her hips and slides the shorts off, throwing them towards the other clothes. She pushes herself up onto her elbow, resting her head on her hand and reaches for the chocolate, dipping her index finger into the bowl.

"Come here," she murmurs and at once you're crawling towards her on your hands and knees. She raises her finger to your lips and your tongue darts out to taste it. She smiles and cocks her head to the side, "Such restraint, babe."

You roll your eyes and part your lips, sucking the tip of her finger between them. Your tongue swirls around, lapping up the sticky chocolate before releasing the digit.

"Yum," you say, reaching for a strawberry. You watch, mesmerised as her tongue licks every drop of chocolate from the fruit pinched between your fingers and her teeth nibble at the bottom. You toss the top back into the bowl when she's done and lean in close to dab a smudge of chocolate from her chin.

"Hi," she says, smiling at your touch. You mouth your response and then lean in to capture her lips, hand cupping her cheek. Her eyes flutter closed moments before yours do and her hand comes to rest on your back, pulling you down as she rolls onto her back. The kiss is languid, tongues painting long strokes and tiny whimpers as teeth scrape against lips, nibbling lightly.

She reverses your positions, rolling you onto your back, somehow managing to avoid hitting the bowl of strawberries. She pins your shoulders to the floor as she pushes herself up and straddles your hips, knees sinking into the rug. Subconsciously, your hips rise slightly, pushing against hers and she grins, shaking her head before reaching for the bowl of chocolate.

Your hands find her thighs and stroke the insides with your thumbs as she dips two fingers into the chocolate, bringing them down to your chest. You squirm a little at the sensation of the warm chocolate on your skin. She draws patterns above your breasts before ducking her head to lick it all away; her tongue on your skin makes you moan and arch ever so slightly into her touch.

Her next set of patterns trail between your breasts and you wish that she'd run her tongue over your straining nipples. After she's licked you clean, however, her fingers are writing words over your abdomen and she moves down your body, hair falling loose and tickling your skin as she slides her body between your legs. She pauses when you groan in frustration.

"Problem?" she asks, running her tongue over your skin again, letting her teeth scrape over it. She glances up into your eyes and you shake your head quickly.

"No problem," you say, "Please continue." She chuckles, lowering her mouth once more.

"Higher or lower?" she asks, reaching for the chocolate.

"Your choice," you say, closing your eyes as your hips roll upwards before you can stop them. She shifts her position again, moving back up your body, grinding her hips playfully against yours.

"Was that your subtle way of telling me to go lower, babe?"

You can hear the smirk in her voice but you don't open your eyes to glare up at her. You don't respond at all until her finger circles your right nipple, quickly followed by her tongue. You arch your back and she moves her mouth away, drawing a second circle around your left nipple.

"Tease," you mutter, trying to squeeze your thighs together, desperate to relieve some of the ache that won't stop building between your legs. Maddeningly, she chuckles again and you open your eyes as she moves one of her legs to the outside of your thigh, leaving her left leg between yours. As her tongue sweeps across your nipple, she grinds her thigh against your centre and you moan, legs instantly constricting, hips rocking up into hers.

"Lower? Or should I stick?" she purrs, reaching for the chocolate. Instead of running her fingers over your body, she parts her lips and runs her tongue over the tip of her finger, sucking the digit into her mouth. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes again and exhale loudly. "Babe?" she moans and pushes her thigh harder against you.

"Lower," you gasp through gritted teeth. "Please. Lower."

Breaking contact with your body as little as possible, she slides down your body, pressing light kisses against your skin until she's nestled between your legs. You feel her lips press against the inside of your thighs and then her hand pushing them further apart. You bend your knees, curling your toes into the rug in anticipation of her touch.

"Please," you whisper, running your hand through her hair. You glance down to see her licking her lips and when her eyes catch your gaze, she smiles, eyes twinkling. "I love you."

"I love you," she says, turning her head to press her lips to the palm of your hand. You smile back at her and she runs her hands up the back of your thighs until they cup your ass. Her gaze breaks away from yours as she moves forward, tongue finally making contact with where you need it most.

You whimper as she paints a few quick strokes over your clit, the tip of her tongue writing letters and drawing patterns. The patterns are familiar and you're sure that she's writing her name, over and over. You try to keep your hips still as she presses harder against you until she moves her mouth away, licking her lips.

You tighten your grip on her hair and she chuckles.

"I'm not going anywhere, babe."

She settles again, your hips canting upwards ever so slightly in anticipation. You feel her exhale against you and your entire body shivers, goosebumps erupting all over your skin. A soft whimper works its way past your lips. You're not normally this impatient but every single nerve in your body is thrumming with want and need.

She decides you've had enough and slides her tongue between your folds, pushing inside you. You moan, eyes rolling back as you buck against her mouth. Her strokes are slow at first, teasing until you whisper that you need more. Her tongue curls inside you, running over the spot that causes you to curl your toes deeper into the rug and moan her name.

"More."

She obliges, thrusting her tongue deeper until you start to beg her to make you come. The words stream out of your mouth, punctuating with whimpers as warmth starts to spread all over your body. You're close and when she pulls her tongue away from you, you groan, hips rocking up, still seeking release.

Three of her fingers replace her tongue and you can't help yourself from screaming her name as her lips close around your clit, sucking liberally. Her lips, her tongue and then her teeth… the pressure inside you becomes too much and you lift yourself off the ground, moaning her name as your muscles clench fiercely around her fingers.

Satiated, you ease yourself back to the ground, her fingers still moving slowly inside you.

"Enough," you hear yourself whisper.

"Enough?" she asks, removing her fingers and pushing herself up. She straddles your waist again and you watch, breathing heavily, as she brings her fingers to her mouth and her tongue licks them clean.

"For now," you answer, a smile on your lips.

"You sound like a woman with a plan," she notes, reaching for the bowl on the hearth again. With her fingers now coated in the hardening chocolate, she brings her hand to your mouth. You suck the chocolate off, tasting yourself on her fingers as well and lie back.

"I'm all sticky," you say, gesturing to the top half of your body.

"And how do you propose we clean you up?" she smirks down at you, fingers splaying across your abdomen.

"Last one in the shower is a rotten… hey!"

She's up like a shot, hurrying towards the bedroom. You're barely on your feet when you hear the en-suite door open and the sound of a shower running.

"A rotten what, babe?" she asks demurely, greeting you at the bathroom door.

"Never mind," you respond, pushing her backwards towards the running water.


	3. Chapter 3

**RATING:** NC-17

**SUMMARY:** Following on from Part I and Part II, it's time to wash off the chocolate.

**NOTES:** And we're back to the POV from part 1. By the way, major shout-out for pleasurechest for encouraging me in my Achele porn writing. And also to roxymatix and nerdmoose for letting me stress out about pretty much everything I write.

You feel your back hit the cool tiles of the shower as she pushes you playfully and you send a(nother) silent thank you skywards for the previous owners' decision to install a shower large enough for two people in the en-suite. Her mouth clashes against yours as her fingers tangle in your hair.

"I could have sworn you were exhausted when you got home," she muses, mouth breaking away from yours, leaving you more than a little breathless.

"I was. I am. But I figure I can sleep all day tomorrow. At this rate, I will sleep all day tomorrow," you respond, leaning forward to push your lips to hers again. You could spend days kissing those lips and your mind flits back to the earlier stages of your relationship when, on the rare occasion that you both had sufficient time off, you'd spent entire days in bed or on the couch, completely naked, exploring each other's bodies.

You'd realised quickly that she wasn't shy. Not when it came to her body and not when it had come to telling you exactly what she'd wanted. Or what she'd wanted to do to you. And although it had taken you a while to open up to her, to be as frank as she'd been (and still is), you've never been this comfortable with anyone, never felt this open or exposed to anyone.

Her hands snap you back to the present as they leave your hair and cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples and you sigh contentedly as a pulse shoots through your body. Her eyes lock with yours and another pulse causes you to part your lips and moan softly.

"What do you want?" she asks, shaking the wet hair from her eyes. You think about it briefly, a memory fluttering through your mind: a Sunday afternoon, a hike, a shower, the rest of the day in bed.

"I want you against the wall," you hear yourself say and reverse your positions, pushing her back against the tiles and clasping her wrists to bring her hands up above her head. She smiles at you and pushes her hips away from the wall, wrists straining against your hands. You click your tongue and shake your head, tightening your grip before leaning in close, letting your mouth travel from the base of her neck to just below her ear. "What do you want?" She whimpers, tugging once more against your hands.

"I want you slow," she whispers; the sound of her voice causes ripples of lust to spread through your exhausted body. You press your forehead against the tile, eyes closing as your hips grind forwards against hers. She responds moments later, mirroring your action. "I want you to fuck me slow and no matter how much I beg, how much I plead… I want you to just go slowly."

"Turn around," you whisper, releasing her arms and moving away from her. You reach over to shut off the water.

"Like this?" she asks, bracing herself against the wall and you chuckle.

"You said you wanted me to go slow," you muse, bending to pick up the bottle of lavender shower gel. You snap the lid open and squeeze some onto the palm of your hand before placing the bottle on the floor again. "Move closer to the wall, rest your head on your arms."

Using your free hand, you guide her into position, pausing to marvel at the toned muscles of her shoulders and the curve of her spine. After distributing some of the shower gel into your other hand, you step towards her and drop a kiss to the tattoo adorning her shoulder. She shivers slightly and shifts her weight before settling against the wall again.

"Cold, babe?" you brush your lips against her skin and she shivers again.

"Freezing," she lies and you smile, pressing the tip of your index finger at the base of her spine as your other hand grasps her waist, palm massaging soft circles into her skin. She arches back as you begin to drag your finger up the column of her spine, her eyes falling shut and her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.

You feel a quick breath leave your lips as you watch the rise of her chest and struggle to control the roll of your hips against her. You reach the nape of her neck and draw a heart before replacing your hand with your mouth, leaving butterfly kisses across her back.

"Touch me," she mutters.

"I am," you reply, lifting your mouth from her skin.

"Higher."

She arches back again to emphasize her point and you do your best to take your time, massaging her from her hips upwards until her body is covered in lather. Teasingly, you run the pad of your index finger along the underside of her breasts and feel her sigh. The sigh turns to a groan as you turn your attention to her back, a giggle on your lips.

"You said slow," you point out, writing your name with your fingertips.

"Please," she huffs.

"You also said…"

She makes a noise of complete exasperation and glances over her shoulder. "Baby," she whines. "I would like it very much…"

You scoff, ceasing all touching.

"You said, and I quote: no matter how much I beg, how much I plead."

"I revoke that statement," she interjects immediately. "Totally revoke it. Touch me."

You sigh and run your hand down her back, skirting around her hip and nestling it between her thighs. Instantly, she tries to grind down against it.

"Is this what you want?" your voice rumbles in her ear and she moans an incoherent response. Your other hand reaches around to cup her breast. "Or this?"

"Both," she sighs. "But slow." Behind her, you shoot an incredulous look at the back of her head. "I saw that."

"You saw nothing," you reply, rolling her nipple between your index finger and thumb. She gasps, hips canting forwards, seeking purchase against your hand. Though she makes it difficult, you try to set a slow rhythm, alternating between teasing her nipples with your fingers and rubbing the palm of your hand against them. She takes a shaky breath as you tug roughly, her mouth falling open and her hips jut forwards again. "You okay?"

"Mmhmm," she mewls contentedly, eyes closed.

"You better not fall asleep on me, babe," you smirk as the hand between her legs twitches imperceptibly. Her legs part a little further, inviting you to raise your hand a little higher. Her eyes open and she glances at you, licking her lips as your eyes connect. A shiver runs through your body and reach over to switch the water back on. She squeals and tries to move out of the onslaught of cold water but you hold her fast, waiting for the water to run hot again. "Turn around," you whisper huskily.

You remove the shower head from it's holder and hold it close to her skin, washing away all the remaining bubbles. You watch her arch backwards against the tiles as the stream of water runs over her chest, rivulets of water running over and between her breasts.

Mesmerised, you fumble with the shower head in your haste to reattach it before ducking your head against her skin, tongue lapping persistently, teeth grazing, lips sucking until she moans your name. Panting, you raise your gaze to meet hers. Her lips form a silent plea and you nod wordlessly, pushing her fully against the wall. Your thigh slides roughly against her centre and she moans in relief, hips grinding downwards.

Her hands lock behind your neck and pull you in closer, a frantic kiss melting your bodies together.

"God…" she mutters as you bring your hand against her sex, her wetness mingling with the warm water rushing down over both your bodies. "Please."

Your fingers slide clumsily against her clit and she jerks against your thigh. As you move your hand away, she protests, shaking her head.

"I need to…" she doesn't finish her sentence, can't finish her sentence as you rock your thigh up against her. Her cry echoes off the tiles and her head falls back. Your mouth latches onto her neck, kissing a little more gently now as your fingers press against her clit. You move in agonisingly slow circles and she matches your rhythm, thrusting against your thigh, each thrust punctuated with a gasp or a moan or your name.

She doesn't have to beg you to speed up. You know by the tremble in her legs and the clenching of her abdomen that she's about to come undone. You hear your name along with several oaths to God as you circle faster. The movement of her hips becomes erratic and as soon as you move your head away from her neck, she falls forward against your shoulder, fingers still clinging at the nape of your neck.

"Come," you whisper in her ear and she exhales sharply, her entire body tenses, her thighs clench around yours and she shudders through her orgasm. Her grip on you falters but you catch her before she falls, sliding her back up against the wall. You press soft kisses to her lips until she tells you with a smile that she needs to lie down.

After shutting off the water, you wrap her up in a towel and guide her into the bedroom. She sits on the end of the bed, gazing blearily at you as you dry her off. She giggles when you tickle a sensitive spot at the back of her knee and scrambles away from you.

"We need to sleep," she says, crawling beneath the covers and watching as you towel-dry your hair.

"Sleep is good," you agree, stifling a yawn. You jump into bed next to her and shut off the bedside light. Like every night, she curls up on her side, arm thrown over your waist, head resting against your shoulder, legs intertwined with yours. She mumbles to herself as she gets comfortable. "What were the other three?" you ask. In the semi-darkness of the room, you see her crack one eye open.

"The other three what?"

"Earlier, you said you thought about us… on the rug. And in the shower. What were the other three?"

"Bed, couch and kitchen."

"Okay," you say, smiling up at the ceiling.

"Why?" she asks, covering her mouth as she starts to yawn.

"Get some sleep," you say soothingly. "We have a busy day tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

**RATING:** NC-17

**PAIRINGS:** Lea/Dianna

**SUMMARY:** Good morning.

**NOTES: **Enjoying the porn? (God, I hope so otherwise… why are you reading this fic?)

Unsurprisingly, she's still fast asleep when you wake up. During the night, you've drifted apart to your separate sides of the bed and it feels like you're too far away. You want her to turn around, give you a sleepy smile and wrap you up in her arms. Arms. Your gaze travels from her shoulder to her elbow, taking in her toned bicep. She's proud of the definition she's managed to maintain despite doing virtually no exercise.

Subconsciously, your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you start to imagine how that arm looks when she's on top of you, how the muscles flex and shift as she thrusts… You close your eyes momentarily and roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling.

You try to focus your attention elsewhere. Anywhere.

Thirty seconds later, it becomes perfectly apparent that your imagination isn't going to let you think about anything else. Baseball. Golf. The economic state of Mexico. The decline of the song thrush in urban environments. The…

You draw a blank as her face appears above you, a devilish smile on her face. She bids you good morning and presses a lingering kiss against your lips. You're acutely aware that she's just a part of your imagination, glancing to your right to see that she's still facing away from you on the other side of the bed. But when you turn back to the ceiling, there she is again, smiling.

Her eyebrow arches as you run your hands down her sides, settling them on her hips briefly before pulling her close to you.

"Morning," you murmur, rolling your hips up to meet hers.

"What's got you so worked up?" she ponders, ducking her head to place gentle kisses to your forehead, to your cheek, the tip of your nose, your lips…

"You," you groan, your hands sliding lower in an effort to keep her hips attached to yours. She bites her lip and rocks gently into you causing you to sigh, glancing quickly to the right to make sure you haven't woken the sleeping beauty next to you.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to go back to sleep. To stop imagining that she's on top of you, her mouth kissing and nipping you neck, her fingertips teasing you with light strokes. You shake your head as a pulse rockets through your body. Hard strokes.

Her imaginary hand is replaced with your own, sliding up to cup your breast. You start slowly at first, drawing a circle around your hardened nipple with the tip of your index finger. A shiver runs through your body and you know that you're not going to be able to stop now. Especially now that memories of the previous day have come flooding back to you.

The fireplace, the rug, the strawberries, the chocolate… those stupid short shorts. You make a mental note to throw them out. Or have them framed. Or make a rule that means she has to wear them at all times in the apartment. Maybe you'll go buy a few more pairs as a belated Hanukkah gift.

With as little movement as possible, you flick the tips of your fingers over your nipple before pinching it, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. Your hips rise a little, that spot between your legs begging for some attention.

Carefully, you spread your legs a little wider, aware that you're already wet. That doesn't stop you from dragging a solitary finger through your folds though, just to check. You hesitate for a few seconds before running a teasing finger over your clit, enjoying the sensation it creates through your entire body.

Fingers nestled between your legs, you return your focus to your other hand, still palming your breast. You tug gently at your nipple before shifting your attention to the other, rolling it between your fingers. She's still at the forefront of your thoughts as you imagine that it's her hand, that it's her fingers doing this to you; that she's leaning in close to you and whispering in your ear, telling you exactly what she wants you to do.

You freeze when she shifts slightly, making a quiet snuffling noise as she repositions herself on the pillow. You wait for her to fall silent, her breathing becomes even again and you relax, bending your left leg as you dip your hand lower between your legs.

The relief that washes over your body as you ease two fingers inside is overwhelming and you have to force yourself to stop the moan building in your chest. For a second or two, you consider waking her up…

The thought of her fingers inside you renews whatever feeling you're trying to quell and you begin to thrust as motionlessly as possible; your other hand still working the increasingly sensitive skin around your nipples. A flashback to the day before causes you to curl your fingers ever so slightly and your hips buck involuntarily.

"Fuck," you mutter to yourself, eyes whipping to the right only to lock with hers. You blush a furious shade of red and open your mouth to say something but she shakes her head and reaches across to tug the sheets that are covering you down to your waist. The cool air causes your skin to bristle and you pause, wondering if you should continue.

Under her intense stare, you begin to work your nipple between your fingers again, pulling, pinching and tugging. Now that she's awake, you have no reason not to voice your arousal and a guttural moan leaves your lips.

"How many?" she asks, nodding her head towards the lower half of your body, still covered by sheets and a blanket.

"Two," you whisper hoarsely, curling your fingers again. She sits up suddenly and moves quickly to remove the rest of the sheets, leaving you completely exposed. Her gaze lingers on the hand between your legs, teeth biting down on her lip as she lies down, covering herself in a blanket again.

"Three," she says in a musing tone. "If you want."

You feel a muscle spasm somewhere inside you at the tone of her voice.

"I need a little more… stimulation," you reply.

"I'm not helping," she replies with a smirk. "You started this."

"Visual stimulation?" you ask, returning her smirk. She rolls her eyes and from the movements beneath the blanket you know that she's teasing her nipples. You watch her eyes flutter closed and hear her gasp softly. "And the blanket?"

"I don't know," she says. "It looks a little chilly." She props herself up on her other elbow and continues her ministrations beneath the blanket.

You groan in frustration as another pulse shoots through your body, shooting her a glare before turning your attention back to the ceiling. You decide that two can play whatever game it is she's suggesting. You're not really sure. You just know that you have to relieve the tension that's building inside you, with or without her help.

When she moans, you stare determinedly forward. You know exactly what she's doing, you know how she likes to touch herself, and you've watched her a hundred times. Your hand begins to work faster, fingers pushing deeper inside as your hips rock up from the bed. You feel the mattress shift as she moves slightly closer.

You chance a glance in her direction to find that she's let the blanket slip to her waist. And her hand is hidden beneath it.

"How many?" you ask, your breath hitching as she lets the blanket slip a little lower.

"Two," she purrs. You watch, mesmerised, as always.

"Race you," you challenge and her smirk returns.

"You've got a headstart," she points out and you concede.

"Then I'll give you a few minutes to catch up," you reply. She considers this for a couple of seconds and shakes her head.

"I'm not going to need it," she moans, arching back from you. "Loser makes breakfast."

"Deal," you say.

She rolls onto her back, one hand still behind her head and you're stunned motionless by how quickly her other hand has started to move beneath the blanket. It takes around half a minute for you to regain your motor skills and you remind yourself that you can't lose this. You won't lose this.

You settle into your rhythm again, thrusting and pinching, imagining that it's her when she moans your name. Four times. Really loudly. Your eyes rocket over to her to find her grinning back at you. You watch her body curl as she stops thrusting and turns her attention to her clit, the blanket slipping away completely from her body. You moan her name, removing your hands from your body and rolling onto your side, moving closer to her.

"No touching," she mutters through laboured breaths.

"No," you agree, bobbing your head up and down. "I just want to watch."

"I'll win," she says.

"Completely worth it," you reply, lowering your head to exhale a stream of cold air over her breasts. She groans.

"No touching," she repeats, arching up from the bed.

"I didn't," you reply cheekily, vaguely aware that your hand has worked its way between your legs again and that your fingertips are drawing circles around your clit. "Are you close?" She nods, biting down on her lip as she presses harder against her clit, her fingers working in furious circles. "Pinch it," you whisper, inches away from her ear. She moans, eyes rolling back, her mouth falling open. You watch as the lower half of her body jerks upwards and smile, doubling your efforts on the throbbing bundle of nerves between your legs.

The hand behind her head slides down between your bodies and her fingers claw at the sheets.

"God, I need to…"she gasps.

Watching as her body arches up from the mattress again, fingers continuing to move as she shudders through her orgasm, you find the visual stimulation you needed and it only takes a few more strokes for you to tumble. You moan her name as your body curls in on itself and collapse onto your back, panting heavily.

It takes a minute for her hand to grasp onto yours, fingertips drawing a heart on your palm.

"Good morning," she mutters, rolling over to press a kiss to your cheek.

"Good morning," you reply, turning to return the kiss. She shivers slightly and reaches for the blanket, pulling it up over both your bodies before wrapping her arms around you. Her lips start to press kisses across your chest, working up your neck to your lips.

"So, what are you making me for breakfast?"

You smile and shake your head, pulling her down for another kiss.

"Whatever you want, baby."


	5. Chapter 5

**RATING:** NC-17

**PAIRINGS:** Lea/Dianna

**SUMMARY:** Chocolate chip pancakes and banana smoothies. Oh and ice cubes.

**NOTES:** … who wants breakfast? :P

She's reluctant to leave the bed despite promising breakfast. You're the winner and you're demanding chocolate chip pancakes and a banana smoothie. Instead, she's pulling the covers up over her head and protesting and reaching over to tickle your sides. You sigh exaggeratedly and cross your arms beneath the blankets.

"Baby?" she purrs, though her voice is muffled. Her lips press against your side and you shiver.

"Breakfast," you say, staying determinedly still. But then she's sliding her body over yours, nestling between your legs. After uncrossing your arms, you lift the blankets up, eyebrow raised to find her mouth hovering millimetres above your breasts. "This doesn't look like pancakes."

She responds by squirming slightly, making sure the she rubs you in the most agonising and delicious way. You exhale heavily and lean your head back against the pillows, trying to ignore the feeling of her breath against your skin. The tip of her tongue darts out, barely touching you and you jerk beneath her.

"I'm really hungry, babe," you murmur, struggling to stop your hips from rolling up into her abdomen. She smirks and shimmies down your body, kisses landing haphazardly against your skin until she's inches from your clit.

"Stay where you are," she says with a wink and disappears completely beneath the blankets, reappearing at the bottom of the bed. Your jaw works furiously, opening and closing, as your brain tries to decide if you're pleased or annoyed. The only sound that escapes your lips is a soft whimper and she chuckles before moving around the room. She pulls on one of your shirts, leaving the buttons open, slips into a pair of her own shorts and heads for the kitchen.

"You should put your slippers on," you eventually call. Without her body pressed against yours, the bedroom is suddenly much colder. You shiver and pull the covers up, closing your eyes for a couple of minutes. The sound of her in the kitchen, singing to herself, retrieving ingredients and a frying pan and whatever else she needs to make the most amazing pancakes you've ever tasted, starts to drift along the corridor and makes you smile.

This is your life. You have a gorgeous apartment, you have a steady stream of work, you have friends and family you adore and who, in return, love you. You have a wife; a woman who drives you crazy and keeps you calm and makes you want to tear your hair out and who can kiss your worries away in an instant. She's the one who makes perfect pancakes and sings you to sleep when you've had a hard day; silences you with a single kiss and tells you each and every day that she'll love you forever.

Your body protests as you push the covers away and the cold rushes over you. You have no idea how she can stand to be in such little clothing when it's this cold. You pull on a sweater and a pair of pyjama pants (and slippers) before making your way to the kitchen. She glances over her shoulder and tuts when you settle against the counter, watching her work.

"I told you to stay in bed," she scolds.

"I got lonely," you say, toying with the long sleeves of your sweater, twisting them over the tops of your hands.

"Baby, I wanted to bring you everything in bed," she says, peeling a couple of bananas for the smoothies.

"I want to help flip the pancakes," you reply, pushing yourself up onto the counter. She doesn't argue further and instead focuses on whipping up the batter for the pancakes. You get a little distracted by the way her arm is flexing beneath the shirt. "You're going to catch a cold," you murmur through your haze.

"You'll just have to find a way to warm me up then," she smirks, turning around fully to face you, bowl nestled in the crook of her elbow. "I'm sure you'll be able to think of something."

When she turns back to weigh out the chocolate chips, you slide down off the counter and walk to the freezer, rummaging through the first drawer. She pauses, whisk tapping against the edge of the bowl and you turn to see her staring at you, eyebrow raised.

"Ignore me," you tell her, gesturing for her to turn around. She shakes her head in a weary manner, mixing the rest of the chocolate chips into the batter. You find what you're looking for and push the door closed softly. She's about to start chopping the bananas when you step up behind her, arms sliding around her waist.

"Good god," she jumps, knife clattering to the counter. "What are you doing?"

You don't respond but instead, smile to yourself as you push her shirt open, not that she'd bothered buttoning it in the first place.

"Baby…" she says then gasps as your cupped hands press against her stomach. She tries to squirm out of your embrace but you hold her fast, pushing her up against the counter as you run your hands higher, the ice cubes in your hands causing her to arch backwards into you.

"You're going to catch a cold," you say again, lips ghosting her ear.

"Then why are you tormenting me with ice cubes?" she whines, gasping again as your right hand shifts upwards to her chest and starts to trail downwards towards her breasts.

"Just think about how nice and warm I'm going to make you when I'm done with them," you tell her, feeling her exhale sharply when you bring your left hand up to cover her breast. She curses loudly, bending into the counter.

"Fuck."

It's long and drawn out and punctuated by a moan that comes from somewhere deep inside her.

"Mmm," you murmur in agreement, bringing your right hand down to her other breast. She shivers violently and pitches forwards, bracing herself against the counter. Your hips push up against hers, pinning her between your body and the counter. You feel her grind backwards against you and you bite down on your lip as the sensation causes you to bend with her. "Spread your legs, babe."

"Too cold," she says, trying to arch out of your touch.

"Is that so?" you chuckle softly, working the ice cubes over her nipples as your thigh nudges its way between hers. "Do you want me to stop?" You grind your leg roughly against her, causing her to bend forwards again, hands scrabbling to hold onto something sturdy. You can't decipher the noise that comes out of her lips so you ask once more.

"No," she grinds out through clenched teeth.

"That's what I thought," you muse, working the melting ice cubes over her skin, running in them in circles around her nipples before pressing them against the hardened nubs once more. "Turn around." You take a step back, shaking off the excess freezing cold water from your hands. She's staring at you, undisguised lust in her eyes. Her bare chest is rising and falling quickly as she takes uneven breaths. Without breaking your stare, she shrugs off the shirt and drops it to the floor before leaning back on her elbows.

You step in close again, still cradling the rapidly melting ice cubes in your slightly numb hands and bring them to her chest, drawing patterns down between her breasts.

"Lick it up," she murmurs, meeting your gaze and biting down on her bottom lip. You comply, ducking your head to catch a drop of water as it begins to streak down over her abdomen and follow the path it's created back up to her chest with the tip of your tongue. Your lips connect with her skin and you start to kiss her, starting off softly until she cups your chin and pulls you up to meet her lips. "Make me nice and warm again?" she barely whispers between kisses, her hands snaking up into your hair.

"You're the one who took off the shirt," you remind her, pinning her against the counter again.

"You're the one who got it all wet with the ice," she tries to argue but is silenced once more as your lips push against hers. The kiss continues to deepen as you press your leg between hers, forcing them to spread. She whimpers into your mouth as one of your hands runs up her back, leaving a trail of freezing water along the curve of her spine.

You hold the remaining piece of ice between two of your fingers and trace the skin just above the waistband of her shorts. She squirms beneath you, moaning when she accidentally grinds against your thigh. She rocks her hips forward again, experimentally this time, and grins against your lips, muttering about how good you feel between her legs.

Before the ice in your hand can melt completely, you slip the tips of your fingers beneath her shorts causing her to gasp and cant forwards off the counter. You work quickly, feeling the ice fading away to water, and push it against her clit. She rips her mouth away from yours and moans, clenching her thighs around your leg. Her forehead comes to rest against your shoulder as she grinds down against you, your leg, your hand, your fingers, the damn ice.

She tries to form words. Anything. Even a curse. But the only thing that leaves her lips is a whimper as your fingers work in quick circles. Her hands leave your hair, scratching down your back through the thin material of your sweater and you moan into her ear, her name dropping effortlessly from your lips.

"Feels good," she mutters, head still pressed to your shoulder as her muscles cause the lower half of her body to grind into you, contracting and tightening as your strokes slow but your pressure increases. "So good."

Your fingers slide down through her folds, revelling in the wetness you find and circle her entrance. She whispers her assent and you ease inside, your hand jammed hard between your thigh and the apex of her legs.

"Are you okay?" you whisper, curling your fingers carefully. She nods, lifting her head to look you in the eye. Her eyes are glazed and almost black; her body shudders as your push a little deeper inside. She nods again before her head lulls back against your shoulder, hips grinding down as she tries to take more of you. She clenches around you, muscles coiling as you curl again.

"More," her voice breaks as she says it. "I need more."

A jolt surges through your body at the tone of her voice, the raw need as she clings to you, moving against your hand to make sure she gets the most from you. You acquiesce and slide another finger inside, relishing the tightness that comes with it.

"Harder."

She slides her hands beneath your pyjama pants and somehow manages to pull you tighter against her. Your strokes become haphazard as she begins to massage you, hands insistent and firm.

"I could have sworn you were really hungry," she muses between pants as her body starts to shudder more erratically.

"I'm famished," you retort with a smile and curl your fingers again. She moans your name and her nails dig into you as her hips lurch into yours. Your fingers brush over that spot and force her over the edge and she's grabbing onto you as she shudders and jerks and moans your name, clenching around your fingers.

She releases a sigh as you shuffle back a half-step, leaving her limp against the counter.

"Where are you going?" she calls as you back out of the room. You chuckle in response, quickly running to your bedroom before returning to the kitchen. She's leaning back against the counter when you return, skin covered in goosebumps and her arms folded across her chest. You hand her the sweatpants first and she rolls her eyes, shaking them out and dropping them to the floor.

"I'm making you nice and warm," you say, bending down to lift one leg at a time into the sweatpants before dragging them up over her calves and thighs. Then you pass over her favourite hoody, a bright blue, oversized affair lined with fleece. She pulls it over her head and pulls the hood up. It's so big that it obscures her eyes causing you to giggle. She sticks out her tongue and rolls up the sleeves. "And the slippers."

You toss them onto the floor and watch her jam her feet into them; huge, fluffy monster feet that look completely ridiculous and adorable on her.

"Perfect," you say with a grin. "Now: pancakes!"

"Demanding," she says, turning back to the counter.

"Hey, I won the race, remember?"

"My memory seems to be lacking," she says, glancing over her shoulder to look at you. She gives you a wink before turning back to the half-made pancakes. "Remind me later?"


	6. Chapter 6

**RATING:** NC-17

**PAIRINGS:** Lea/Dianna

**SUMMARY:** You'd think all they'd want to do now is sleep…

**NOTES:** Final part. Yay! Thanks for sticking with this fic. A very happy belated birthday to pleasurechest.

**xxxxx**

"Urgh, so full," she moans, rubbing her stomach. You finish your final pancake and lean forward to place both empty plates on the table in front of the couch before snuggling back against her. She presses a kiss against your temple and grins. "Thanks for breakfast."

"A well-deserved breakfast," you reply, knowing that if you closed your eyes right now, you'd probably fall asleep within moments. "Although I'm not sure if it's still called breakfast if it's eaten in the middle of the afternoon."

"You have maple syrup all over your face," she says, licking her thumb to rub a spot of the sticky substance from your cheek. You grimace and try to squirm away from her. "How about we watch a movie?" she says, giving up when you come close to falling off the couch.

"You pick," you say, yawning loudly as she stands up. You stretch out as soon as she's gone, pretending to snore.

"No sleeping!" she reprimands, picking up a cushion from one of the armchairs and launching it at you. It hits you in the stomach with a dull thud causing you to groan. "If you sleep now, you won't sleep tonight and I _need_ to sleep tonight."

"Yes, mom," you say, earning yourself a cushion to the face this time. Chuckling, you pull yourself upright and leave her to choose a DVD, heading through to the en-suite to clean off the maple syrup that's stuck to your chin.

"Babe?" you hear her call as you make your way back through the bedroom. "Can you grab a blanket?"

"Sure," you reply, pulling the blanket off the unmade bed and heading back through to the lounge. She's stretched out with her arms behind her head, grinning as you come into view. "Not fair. If I don't get to lie down, neither do you!"

"You _could_ lie down…" she says, smirking at you. You roll your eyes and toss the blanket at her. "Unless you're bored with me."

"Three years of marriage does wear a person down," you sigh heavily, waiting for her sit up again. She unravels the blanket and, after you've joined her on the couch once more, drapes it over the both of you. "Can you believe it's been three years?"

"The worst three years of my life," she grins, pressing her lips to your temple again.

"Without a doubt," you agree, taking her hand in yours. Her wedding ring sparkles up at you and you can't stop a ridiculously huge smile from crossing your lips as memories from one of the happiest days of your life flit through your mind. "What have you picked?"

"Well, the last time we watched a movie, I picked and you fell asleep so I figured we'd go old school…" she presses a button on the remote control and the opening scene of _The Shining_ starts to play. Your eyes light up and you squeeze her hand.

"I was super-tired that day," you whisper excitedly. "Wait! Pause it!"

She sighs as you hop off the couch to run around the room, closing all the curtains and shutting off the lights as you go. In the darkness, you nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to get back to the couch.

"Ready?" she asks, after you've pulled the blanket up around your chin and snuggled in tight to her. She snakes her arm around your back, resting her hand against your thigh and restarts the film when you nod against her shoulder.

You're riveted, of course, but after half an hour, you can sense that her interest is waning. Beneath the blanket, her fingertips have started drawing patterns against your hipbone. You attempt to focus on the film but when her hand shifts a little higher, playing with the waistband of your pyjama pants, you risk a glance at her.

Outwardly, she appears to be captivated by what's happening on the television; her gaze never falters as you continue to look at her. You place a hand on her thigh, deciding that, for the second time so far today, two can play this game. Her hand immediately stills against you and you feel her take a slightly quicker breath before she continues stroking you, fingers trailing around the top of your pyjamas.

You try to follow the gentle rhythm she's set, as though her movements are controlled by some sort of internal metronome. Left to right then back again, over and over. A sharp pulse rockets through your body when her fingers drift a little too far and tickle a sensitive patch of skin but she doesn't appear to register the quiet whimper that escapes your lips. Your hand tightening on her thigh, however, causes her to turn her head.

"Everything okay?" she asks, her expression unreadable when her face illuminates due to a sudden flash from the screen. She slides her hand beneath the material of your pyjamas. Readily, you nod, trying not to react to way her palm is rubbing against your skin, her hand moving meticulously in its rhythm, up and down, over and over.

"Yes," you mutter, pushing yourself even tighter against her. Your hand is climbing higher with every stroke along her thigh and you're pretty sure it isn't your imagination when she shifts just enough to allow her to spread her thighs a little wider.

You both turn back to the television screen but you can't pay attention to the film. You're too focused on the way her hand is moving against you, sending ripples of pleasure through your body, and the way your fingers are ignoring your brain and venturing ever higher across her skin. Her sigh is a little disappointed when you force yourself to slide your hand back down towards her knee.

"Mean," she exhales causing you to chuckle.

"You started it," you reply, leaning your head a little closer to nip the skin below her ear.

"Only because I was hoping you'd finish it," she replies, her fingers dig into your skin and you gasp as she starts to knead your flesh.

"God," you mutter, head burrowing into the crook of her neck. "You're insatiable."

"That's your fault," she replies, not lessening the pressure she's exerting. Your eyes are screwed shut now, mouth open against her neck as your breathing becomes irregular. "You're just too damn good."

"You're not so bad yourself," you hear yourself say, aware that your hand has stopped moving and you're gripping her thigh almost vice-like. You feel yourself tremble as she continues massaging you and finally remember to let go of her. "Fuck."

"Mmhmm," she murmurs and you can _hear_ the smile on her face. "Am I being too rough, babe?" She squeezes you a little too hard, nails scratching at your skin, and you have to smother your yelp, pressing your mouth fully against her neck. You let your teeth graze against her and she moans in response.

Movie forgotten, she pulls you around onto her lap, crushing your mouths together. The blanket is cast aside as you straddle one of her thighs, attempting to pull off the hoody she'd dressed you in while making breakfast. Her hands clasp over yours in the darkness.

"Everything stays on," she says, a smirk to her voice. You shrug and lean forward to kiss her again, moaning into her mouth when both of her hands slide beneath your pyjama pants this time. She pulls you as close as physically possible and you feel her thigh tense between your legs. Unbidden, your hips roll down and you grind against her, feeling relief.

"I thought you wanted me to…" your sentence trails off when she raises her thigh up to meet you again.

"There's nothing stopping you from touching me," she says. "You pride yourself on being an excellent mulit-tasker."

"You're too distracting," you reply, head lolling backwards when one of her hands slides out from beneath your pyjamas and comes to rest near the top of your thigh, the pad of her thumb working circles through the material, inching higher and higher until you're grinding forwards again, desperate to feel her fingers against the ache building at the apex of your legs. She's tantalisingly close and you swear you feel the faintest of touches right before she draws her hand away and brings it around to the small of your back.

"Tease," you whimper and pitch forwards, making sure you maintain contact with the taut muscle of her thigh as you brace your hands against the back of the couch.

"You enjoy it, really," she muses, turning her head a little to press her lips against your jaw. "I can _feel_ how much you're enjoying it."

You remain silent and concentrate on not making any sudden moves, nothing that will cause the ache to get worse. She's right though: you're soaked and she can feel it despite the barrier of your pyjamas and hers.

"Hardly seems fair," you say through measured breaths. She ducks her head a little further and kisses your neck, sucking just hard enough that your hips buck against her. You moan and she stops.

"What isn't fair?" she asks, stroking your thigh once more. Very slowly and as carefully as possible, you start rocking your hips back and forth against her. Her breath hitches and her hand moves away again, causing you to jerk forwards a little harder than you want to.

"In the kitchen," you say, wishing that you could regain some sort of control over what the lower half of your body is doing. "You were the one who…" you trail off, inexplicably shy.

"Gave?" she supplies. "And you think that it's only fair if we take turns?" At your lack of response, she continues. "I'm not _giving_ you anything. _You're_ the one fucking my leg."

"Fuck," you moan. "You're only talking like this because it's dark. You think I don't know that you're blushing."

Her silence tells you that you're right and, blindly, you reach out towards the end table, somehow managing to flick the lamp on. Her cheeks are crimson and she's biting her bottom lip sheepishly. You lean in close, letting your lips ghost over hers.

"I know sometimes you freak out about it but I really like it when you talk," you say, rolling your hips down again. And again. Your eyes close momentarily and you exhale heavily as a pulse rockets through you, causing you to arch away from her. Her hands are on your back though, keeping you upright.

"I think I sound ridiculous," she says, glancing down between your bodies to where you're still rubbing against her thigh, still trying to control how fast you're moving, still wondering how long you'll be able to keep this criminally slow pace up.

"I'm inclined to disagree," you reply, eyes closing again as a shaky breath leaves your lips.

"Keep your eyes closed," she whispers and you nod. "Lean forward again." You do exactly as she says, hands bracing once more against the back of the couch. You slide forward a little and gasp in relief as she raises her leg, making contact in exactly the spot you need it most.

"There," you mutter against your will then gasp when she clamps her hands on your hips and somehow manages to intensify the contact between your bodies. Her lips find your neck and she presses kisses against your skin, moving up until her mouth is below your ear.

"Talk to me," she whispers. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"You go first," you shoot back, not willing to let her off the hook so easily. "Tell me what's going through your mind right now. Tell me what you want me to do."

She hesitates and you feel her sigh, her grip on your hips loosening. In the loss of contact, you can't stop yourself from pressing down hard against her and groaning in relief as you work backwards and forwards against her, every movement causing a spark to set off somewhere in your body.

"Baby," you say, breaking the silence. "Say something."

Her hands grab you, fingers digging into your skin, forcing you to slow your movements once again.

"When I let go," she murmurs, lips ghosting over your ear, "I want you to go fast." Another spark. "I want you to keep going until you come. I want you to tell me how good it feels, how wet you are, how… bad you want me."

"Keep going," you tell her, eyes still squeezed shut. Your entire body is thrumming with anticipation; soon there will be relief, soon you can open your eyes, soon you can rip every inch of clothing from both of your bodies and make her feel the way you do right now.

"I love you," she finishes in a tone that tells you she's done with talking.

"I love you too," you reply, just as her fingers relax. All restraint abandoned, you press down against her and moan as your hips begin to rock wildly against her thigh. Relief washes over you and you work on getting the angle that you need, frustration mounting when you fail repeatedly to hit the spot.

Remembering what she'd said before letting go, you open your mouth to speak but your words turn to a startled moan. Her hand has slipped between your legs and her thigh, fingers turned upwards and pushing against your pyjamas. A garbled noise leaves your throat when your clit meets the tips of her fingers.

"Fast," she reminds you and you nod silently, unable to form any words. Her fingers move upwards against you and you jerk forwards, your speed increasing with every thrust.

Everything builds too fast: the pressure inside you as you careen against her, all rhythm lost; the words that she wants you to say that are probably going to spill out when your climax rips through you; the stifling heat created by the hoody and the pyjamas and the closeness of your bodies. _So close_. She pushes harder against you and you wonder if you said that out loud.

A wave of dizziness hits you as you begin to tremble. She urges you on, to go faster, to be louder. You're not even aware that words are leaving your lips because all you can focus on is pressure. Your muscles that are screaming for release, your lungs that are in dire need of oxygen.

_Breathe._

When you exhale, it hits you. It hits you in waves. The first causes you to curse and all but scream her name and oaths to God. The second is quieter and causes all the pressure to rush out of your body. You collapse against her and her arms are instantly around you. A lazy smile crosses your lips when you've finally found the energy to lift your head.

"Urgh," you murmur and she starts to giggle.

"That's all you have to say?" she asks, brushing her fingers across your cheek. You nod and collapse against her again.

"Urgh," you repeat happily, pressing your lips to her skin. "I move that we spend the rest of our life together on this couch."

"Seconded," she says, taking your hands in hers. Her fingers link with yours and you feel her give them a sharp squeeze. "Except I've worked really hard on this movie and I'll be pretty annoyed if it ends up not being made just because we can't stop having fantastic…"

She pauses to raise your joined hands to her lips.

"Mind-blowing…"

She presses a second kiss to the back of your left hand and grins.

"Messy…"

"We've been messier," you remind her. She gives you a curious look as though wracking her brains to recall something messier than the chocolate from the night before. "Paris." She blushes slightly before nodding.

"Paris. Our first anniversary."

A moment of silence passes over you both while you remember the hotel on the banks of the Seine before a soft giggle interrupts your thoughts.

"The chaise…" she murmurs before biting down on her bottom lip. "We should go back to Paris."

"But we have a nice couch here. One that you probably _won't _fall off of this time…" you tell her. "You nearly broke your ankle and I had bruises for a month." You both share a smile before you slide backwards off her lap, finding your legs a little shaky.

"What are you doing?" she asks, arching an eyebrow as you shimmy out of your pyjama pants. The cool air against your skin makes you sigh in relief.

"I'm too warm," you say before you hitch the hoody up over your head and discard it on the floor. She rolls her eyes now before focusing her attention on the television. You climb back onto the sofa, back pressed against the arm. "Our couch is about fifty times more comfortable than that chaise."

"I know," she says, reluctantly glancing over in your direction. She sighs unevenly and shakes her head. "You're going to be the death of me. You know that, right?"

You make a noise of agreement and then all the words rush out of your throat. She's pulling off her sweater and pyjamas and grabbing the blanket from the floor. She pushes your legs apart and nestles between them, draping the blanket over your bodies.

"Next time, we're definitely watching one of my movies," she says. "You can fall asleep, I can keep my clothes on."

"Naked movie-watching is grossly underrated."

"Babe, you think naked _everything _is grossly underrated," she says with a chuckle.

"If you got to see yourself the way I see you, you'd understand why I want you naked as often as possible," you murmur, pressing your lips to the back of her neck. She remains silent, just shifting slightly, getting more comfortable and pressing backwards against you a little harder.

"Ditto," she says at last and you burst out laughing, sliding your arms around her waist.

"All I get is a ditto," you remark, resting your head on her shoulder. Her hands come to rest of the tops of your thighs and she begins to draw patterns across your skin.

"Yup," she says. "Words are difficult when I'm _this_ tired."

"Is that a subtle way of telling me that I should hurry the hell up?" you smirk, running both hands up her body to cup her breasts. She arches back and whispers 'yes' before pressing her lips to your neck. You both fall quiet as your hands start to massage her, palming both breasts before concentrating on her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. An occasional whimper drops from her lips, quickly becoming more insistent as you draw out your strokes.

"Please," she whispers, eyes squeezed shut as she lifts her hips off the couch.

You hum quietly as one of your hands drops away, sliding beneath the blanket to where her hands are still holding onto your thighs; her grip tightens when your fingertips graze over her skin. You're happy to take your time, to torment her for as long as she can stand it but she has other plans. Somehow she manages to bring her mouth level with your ear, legs straining as she rises off the couch.

"Please," she growls before grinding roughly against you. "I need…"

"I know," you reply, turning your head to kiss her. "I know." You press another kiss to the corner of her mouth before she gasps, legs falling further apart, pushing against your own. Then her hand covers yours and pushes you inside her.

"Yes," she mutters, mouth open against your neck, shuddering slightly when she remembers to take a breath. "More."

"Demanding," you smirk, dropping your other hand beneath the blanket. "Are you sure?"

You press a solitary finger against her clit and she moans, nails digging into your thigh.

"God, please…"

The desperate twinge in her voice convinces you that this definitely isn't the time to take it slow, that it isn't the time to draw out everything movement, every stroke, every curl. And you give in. Your fingers push deeper, trying to match the rocking of her hips. You rub against her clit and feel her sigh in relief as a wave of tension rushes over her.

"Close," she's muttering before her lips close over yours. You return the kiss and relish every second as she comes apart in your arms. Her lips fall away from yours as she takes a shuddering breath and then releases her grip on your thighs. She falls silent, pulling the blanket up higher around you both and wraps your arms across her waist. "Night."

"Baby…" you protest softly, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I'm taking you out for dinner."

"But so sleepy," she mumbles, burrowing deeper under the blanket.

"If we go out now, you can be in bed by eight," you try to reason with her. "And this time, I'll actually let you sleep."

"You better," she says. "I can't fall asleep in my director's chair tomorrow."

You chuckle and press your lips to the top of her head.

"Happy anniversary," you whisper. She shifts in your arms and glances up at you, a grin spreading across her face.

"Happy anniversary."


End file.
